


Unbreakable Bonds

by richardthepassiveaggressiverooster



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dubious Consent, Eventual group sex, F/M, Multi, Reverse Harem, dubcon, fic is pretty dark, more explicit as chapters go on, no happily ever after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richardthepassiveaggressiverooster/pseuds/richardthepassiveaggressiverooster
Summary: Rey's connection with Kylo Ren is unbreakable. But it's also not her only bond.





	1. Star-Nipped Nighttime

**Author's Note:**

> It is a dark time. The Resistance is regrouping to take a stand against the First Order, led by Kylo Ren on a mission to ravage the galaxy. The Last Jedi, Rey from Jakku, is continuing her fight against him through their psychic bond, even as her relationships with Poe Dameron and Finn grow deeper...
> 
> This takes place after The Last Jedi. It's a dark story, and I'm not up to the task of putting all the content warnings (sorry), so please gird your loins for explicit sex, including magical group sex, dubcon, and fighting one's enemies via boners. 
> 
> I've written the first two chapters completely, but I'm not done with the third yet, so please give me a few days to post this entire fanfic. Happy reading!

## Poe

Sometimes it doesn’t feel like they’re at war, almost, for a few minutes at a time. It’s an unfamiliar feeling for Commander Poe Dameron. He can connect with hazy recollections of a time before he fought—or, rather, idler times in his past where he didn’t feel constantly on the brink of death—but in his adulthood, in his time as a pilot for the Resistance, a sensation of peace is so foreign he’s not sure what to make of it.

“That’s the Force,” Rey tells him at one point when she’s trying to climb out of his bunk, grinning, with only one of her three typical buns still intact.

“What’s the Force?” He hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation. He’d been talking on autopilot, letting his mouth tell Rey things that he wouldn’t be able to say with his brain engaged, and he’s not sure why the Force has come up when they are still limned by the sweat their bodies made together.

“The peace you feel,” she says with patience touched by amusement. “That’s the Force.”

“I thought the Force was how you pick up rocks,” Poe said. He knows how she hates that. He laughs when she rolls her eyes.

He hooks an arm around her waist to pull her back into the bunk, rolling his weight over hers.

She has things to do. She needs to leave. She could easily stop him.

She doesn’t.

Rey flattens against the pillow, her fingers traveling over the bandages left by Poe’s last flight with the squadron. She’s smiling. When she smiles her whole face smiles, and Poe isn’t ready to let her out so that the world can come back in.

He tastes her grin with his lips and lets his stubble scrape down her cheek to nibble her ear. Poe can’t help but use the edge of teeth with Rey. It’s been months since she last saw Jakku but she tastes like desert sunshine pounding against endless sapphire sky. She’s the vast expanse of star-nipped nighttime opening to the prow of his X-Wing. She is the rush of adrenaline that leaps through him when he banks into First Order trenches to bring deliverance unto an aching Resistance.

She is wrapping her legs around his hips and continuing to smile _like that_ while she digs her heels into his lower back. There is a distinctly beatific hint to her gaze.

“I really have to get going, Commander,” she says while her hand slips between their bodies to cup him, guide him to the center at the apex of her thighs. “You have work and— _oh_.”

He’s notched inside her. Again. He doesn’t have to be gentle about pushing to the hilt; Rey is still slick. Adrenaline and endless sky and starry deserts shrink down to the point in space that their bodies meet. There is no war, and no empire to resist.

In the white light of pleasure that bows out the walls of his brain, Poe feels only hope.

Rey not the first woman he’s had in his bunk, by far. She’s not even the first woman as important and legendary as _the_ Rey of Jakku, Last Jedi herself. But she’s the first one in a long time that Poe doesn’t want to share. He wants to keep this peace between their bodies as she dozes. Her sweaty hairline rests against his shoulder, and his lips travel over the soft scars that bacta left behind on her knuckles, tender and reverent as though she is a secret that he would die to preserve.

* * *

## Kylo

It is a grim and monotonous chore, dominating the galaxy, and Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is doing as well at it as can be expected. They seize sectors planet by planet—sometimes city by city, when the locals are obnoxious—and Kylo Ren is no stranger to the outcries of lives snuffed. It doesn’t jar him anymore.

In a way, it would be better if tightening the First Order’s grip involved more genocide. He’s very comfortable with murder. But there can be no empire without vassals and the related citizenry, and killing everyone would leave Kylo Ren master of a lifeless universe.

According to Hux, who has shrill opinions about everything, mastering a lifeless universe is _not_ their goal.

They cannot simply slaughter everyone.

Kylo Ren stands at the helm of Supremacy, named after the ship that once belonged to Snoke. He churns from blue horizon to red and to the next without faltering. The lives fall underneath him. Local leadership bows to his demands or else they break under his heel.

It’s another day like that. His fleet is conquering a nameless planet occupied by a desert-dwelling monarchy who voiced displeasure at the idea of joining the First Order. They will be easy to quell. There will be no negotiations. The military might of these people is nothing compared to a fraction of the First Order’s vessels.

Then, before Kylo can issue the command, the world grows dim. Sounds retreat. He turns. There is a petite brunette figure among his crew, and it is only her smile that distinguishes her from her monochrome-clad surroundings. She wears strips of dark cloth belted by black leather. Her hair is down, growing long, and it is messy. All but one of her buns has unraveled.

The Force has connected Kylo to Rey.

She stands before him but doesn’t look at him. She doesn’t yet realize that she has company again. She is looking at someone else, smiling like that for someone else, and laughing crisply in the silence of space.

He opens his mouth to speak to her.

Kylo remembers he’s not alone either.

“Take care of Abetenna,” he commands Hux. He strides out of the bridge in a swirl of black armor. Only when he passes her Force-projected figure does Rey suddenly silence. Their eyes meet. They are together.

* * *

## Finn

_Oh stars, Rey is at it again_. 

She didn’t even glance at Finn before diving into her private quarters—the roomiest available at Meshisma Base, afforded to her because nobody will argue that a Jedi Knight shouldn’t have training space.

Finn touches the pad and it gives a disapproving tone. She locked the door against his well-intentioned check-ins.

He doesn’t have to press his ear to the door to know that she’s throwing furniture. It’s impossible to tell if she’s using her body or the Force without a visual, but it sounds like apocalypse every time.

The first few times he heard it, Finn had gone for his blaster. You can take the man out of the Stormtrooper but can’t take the Stormtrooper out of the man. That much pounding and yelling sounds like wartime, and ravaged villages crushed under the First Order, and Finn still wakes up panicking when he hears it even though she’s been like this for weeks.

She has fits like these every night.

Finn’s quarters are on the other side of the wall from hers, pinning her in the corner, protecting her from the ears of others in the Resistance. They can’t know that Rey came back from Ahch-To troubled.

They’ve gone from a thousands-strong rebellion to a party of mere dozens, and they’re clawing their way back to the hundreds, scraping together the sympathetic downtrodden where they can. A lot of it is because of Rey. They hear of her strength, the feats of freedom she performs, and they think she’s going to bring order to a merciless galaxy.

He can’t let her legend falter.

There are still so many thousands to be inspired.

Finn wishes he could protect her half as much as he protects the Resistance. He wishes that she’d forget to lock the door so he could slip in there, touch her, help her remember what reality looks like. He wants to stroke his fingertips along the curls plastered to her sweat-soaked neck. He wants to feel her embracing him the way that she had on Crait, with relief and excitement.

She’s locked in. She’s gone.

Finn can only protect her door when this happens.

Poe’s not far behind Rey this time. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of uniform pants and unlaced boots, his curls askew and face more unshaven than usual. “Hey Finn,” Poe greets, pounding him on the back. “You seen Rey around? She ran off faster than usual. Kinda looked like she was sick.” His initial geniality turns to wide-eyed surprise when he hears a crash against the door. It makes the entire wall thud. “Is Rey in there? Rey!”

It’s not the first time Finn’s gotten between Poe and Things Poe Wants to Kick Down. He’s good at holding him back by now. Finn bars Poe with an arm, with his chest. 

He’s jealous of the intensity of concern in Poe’s eyes. It shows how much time he’s spent with Rey since the Battle of Crait. It’s intensity Finn catches in his reflection every time he thinks about Rey too, and it doesn’t seem fair, because Finn found her first and he _needs_ her in a way that Poe doesn’t.

Finn found Rey, but Poe found Finn. Freed him. Gave him this life. Named him.

Finn steps back to let Poe free.

“Rey is fine in there. She’s alone, not under attack,” Finn said. “We can’t bother her.”

Poe looks like he disagrees very much. He doesn’t believe Rey is fine and he is convinced that he _can_ bother her. “Is it a Force thing?”

“Yes,” Finn said. It probably was.

Now he doesn’t have to hold Poe back anymore, but the pilot is running his hands through his hair and pacing and circling, as though trying to decide what else to do with his frenetic energy. “Okay.” He shrugs. “Okay. Can’t always just fly in and start shooting things.”

“Not with this,” Finn says. He would if he could.

* * *

## Kylo

Kylo’s bedroom is a grandiose cold place. Snoke had liked his quarters draped in shimmering golden indulgence, but Kylo’s has nothing except a bed for the occasional restless sleep, and windows to overlook his growing empire. The expanse of it gives him more than privacy; it gives him utter solitude.

Rey has followed him into his solitude.

She doesn’t have a choice. Whatever Force bond has bridged their minds is permanent, and in these times of silence, they are intrinsically connected.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Rey asks through gritted teeth, with that fierce light burning in her eyes. The one that says _You are a monster_. The one that burns Kylo, even as it draws him inextricably nearer.

She leaves no reflection on the glossy black floor.

“I didn’t choose this,” Kylo said. “Neither of us chose this.”

But he wouldn’t have chosen anything else, either.

He’s glimpsed Rey less often in the weeks since the fight at the mines. She’s gaining mental and emotional discipline. She’s put up walls to prevent Kylo from intruding.

Rey, he knows, is training with his mother. General Organa is not a Jedi but has leveraged her affinity with the Force to make herself a more powerful diplomat. The mental discipline is certainly hers. It’s General Organa’s fault that Kylo can no longer press against the curves and valleys of Rey’s innermost thoughts, stroking his fingers through the fiber of her dreams until he is sated by the completeness of their knowing.

They still intrude upon each other, but General Organa has guaranteed this only happens in Rey’s guarded waking hours.

It’s another reason to hate his mother.

“What planet are you destroying now?” Rey asks. 

She can’t see his surroundings, just as he can’t see hers. As far as Rey can tell, Kylo is with her wherever she is. Rey refuses to tell him what’s happening in her surroundings. Her outfit tells nothing—she’s still wearing that gray tunic and those black linen strips across her chest.

“Why do you want to know my whereabouts? Do you want to attack my fleet?” Kylo asks. Even these questions come from him awkwardly, uncomfortably, almost gently. He’s not good at talking to Rey. But he’s better at talking to Rey than anyone else he’s ever known.

She searches his face with angry eyes. She neither concedes or denies his accusation, and Kylo understands this to mean agreement. The sole drive of the Resistance is to resist. 

If Rey learns where Supremacy is orbiting, she will have no choice but to report his attack to her superiors.

This is how things are between them.

Kylo offered Rey everything—everything that he possessed within and without—and she rejected him. She continues rejecting him. She clings to the past with desperation, bound to a dead Resistance that will be her ultimate downfall.

“I’m at Abetenna,” he says. “The rulers need convincing to join the First Order. We’ll be here a few days.”

Her jaw snaps shut. She trembles with anger.

“You’re going to come find me at Abetenna,” Kylo says.

Rey says, “I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You’ll come,” he says, more firmly.

He brushes his hand over her collarbone, bowing his head to try to smell her through the bond, seeking the satisfaction of tactile connection he’d experienced fighting beside her in Snoke’s throne room. They aren’t truly together, so they don’t quite touch. But he manages to ruffle Rey’s linens and expose her throat.

There are small bruises on her neck. A trio of red marks form a trail from collarbone to the neckline of her tunic, where surely they dip toward her breasts. They look like bite marks. They look recent.

Kylo remembers how she’d been laughing.

“What were you doing before this?” he asks, circling her. He hovers a hand over her shoulders. She closes her eyes and shivers perceptibly, and Kylo can feel the way her abs clench, her nipples tighten, her knees lock. Their hearts are pounding at double speed. Every other beat belongs to him, and the rest to her.

She’s quiet. Her mind is closed.

“You must have been doing something,” Kylo said. “You’re turning red.”

“It’s none of your concern!”

Her insistence is validation.

Though Rey’s body is reacting with arousal, it’s not from Kylo’s presence…is it? She was already like this. She is flushed with excitement, sweaty from physical exertion, her body primed. 

Kylo can taste sweat on their lips—on Rey’s lips—and it doesn’t belong to hers, but was gently nipped off the stubble of an angular jaw that Kylo can _almost_ see in Rey’s mind.

Someone has been with her. 

Someone has been _inside_ of her.

Kylo erupts.

He flings a hand out, and his bed crashes into the window, and it’s only due to triple reinforced transparisteel that he doesn’t put a hole through Supremacy. It’s not enough. The sound isn’t loud enough, there isn’t enough destruction, he doesn’t stop _hurting_.

The Force smashes through him, and through Rey. She is his proxy. She belongs to him. The Force ripples around her and he can feel it reaching to her environment, wherever she is in the universe.

Kylo wonders if he is destroying a Resistance base through Rey.

It’s still not enough. It’s never enough. And the futility of it all is what makes him wind down, bracing his arms against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe.

Rey hasn’t moved. She’s still glaring at him with that silent _You are a monster_ look, her hands balled into tight fists.

When he repeats himself, he is quiet again, barely. “Who touched you?”

Rey’s look away from him says it all.

“You made your choice, Ben.”

* * *

## Finn

Next time Rey emerges from her bedroom, she’s not really quite _there_.

She visits Rose Tico with Finn. He loves taking the women to speak to each other; they have become fast friends, and this is beneficial to Rose in her isolation, since her recovery is taking a long time.

Bacta is a limited resource they haven’t managed to scrape together since the flight from Crait. 

She’s healing remarkably well nonetheless.

“They say I might be out in a week.” Rose is always breathless and smiling, as if she feels blessed to have Finn and Rey visit her, even now that they are friends. She still feels unworthy. She doesn’t know she’s one of them. “I should be back to working behind pipes soon.”

“You’ll be up to much more than that, I suspect,” Rey says.

“We need you back,” Finn says. He also means, _I need you back_.

Rose glows.

The others in the medbay are happy to see Rey too. She is whispered about. They say that she’s Luke Skywalker’s last trainee, the last Jedi. The Resistance may be the spark that lights the fire that burns the First Order down, but Rey is the kindling.

After saying goodbye to Rose, Rey’s tour of the medbay is short. Chinna’s relating how she lost her leg in a dogfight against TIE fighters when Rey suddenly grips the arm of the medbot beside her. 

The wall cracks. The mortar between the stones turns to puffs of dust. 

Rey’s eyes have gone distant, her jaw clenched, and the medical tools shiver on the tray.

“Not now,” she says to nobody in words ripe with venom. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

Finn can’t come up with an excuse for Rey’s behavior. He doesn’t need to. Chinna has nightmares, like they all do, and she gives him an understanding nod before he guides Rey to her room.

* * *

## Finn

It’s a different kind of war inside Rey’s bedroom than it is in the galaxy outside. She’s been crushing furniture. Her windows are cracked. Random burned patches mark the walls.

“Stars, Rey,” Finn says. “What happened?”

Rey tells Finn the truth, as she should have long before.

Finn is furious.

“He’s in your _mind_?” He’s glaring at her forehead as though he can see Kylo Ren brooding beyond the fall of hair.

“Not always,” Rey says. “I think we meet halfway, somehow.”

“And you can’t control it? You can’t keep him out?”

“Don’t you think that I would if I could?” She is shaking, wrapping her arms around herself as if cold, and it’s ridiculous that a legendary Jedi can look so vulnerably frail.

Finn hugs her. He’s been doing it whenever he can get away with it, but it feels different inside Rey’s cabin, amid the furniture that Kylo Ren has shattered through the Force. She is thin against him. Growing up on a desert planet has left her wiry.

They remain like that, clutching each other fiercely, and Rey whispers about what Kylo Ren has been doing. What he’s been saying. How he’s at Abetenna, how he’s going to kill people, how he wants her and will not give up until he gets her.

“He can’t have you,” Finn says. He means it. He will die before he lets Kylo Ren have Rey.

Dewy tears are suspended on the lace of her eyelashes. “I don’t think I can resist him much longer.”

“Let me do it for you,” he says. “I’m not that strong, but whatever I’ve got, Rey—it’s yours. I’m all yours.”

He tenses when her hands touch his stomach through his tunic. When she lifts the hem to tentatively trace the shape of his hips atop his belt.

“Can I?” Rey asks, trailing her fingertips to his back, feeling the furrow of his spine. She has whispered the words against his collarbone.

“What about Poe?” Finn asks.

“He doesn’t mind,” she says. “It’s not like that.”

Finn is confident it is _like that_. He knows Poe’s expressions well; he knows that the pilot is smitten, just as Finn is. But he’s also confident that Poe doesn’t own Rey. Nobody owns Rey.

And if this is how she wants strength—if this is what Finn can give her—then he will drain himself drier than Jakku for her.

Finn is willing but embarrassed as Rey removes his jacket. He has a soldier’s body with the associated scars. Stormtrooper training is not gentle. Nor had there time or permission for sexual exploration; the scientists responsible for production always say that the clones have sexual urges genetically divested from them. (It’s a lie. There’s more masturbating in Stormtrooper barracks than anyone wants to admit.)

Rey validates Finn’s body with her expression, growing hotter and hungrier as she feels him with her palms. He wouldn’t know how to hide his reactions even if he wanted to. She watches his face while rolling her thumbs over his nipples, and she sucks one into her mouth so he must have shown it was good.

Her mouth lowers from his stomach to his hipbone to an erection that has become painfully large. He sighs when she releases him from his belt. He chokes when she runs her tongue along each and every line.

When he rises up on his knees, and she straddles him, that is how they join the first time. They embrace as tightly as they ever have. They are cheek to cheek, chest to chest, their knees bruising on the floor.

Finn’s climax hits faster and harder than he expected. Rey only goes once he does, as if that was what she wanted. They shake together. They shudder. They come down slowly, still holding each other, their eyes closed to savor the feeling.

“Thank you, Finn,” Rey says, as if he’d done her a favor.

In truth, Finn is all the more smitten, and all the more addicted to Rey from Jakku. And he decides that he will murder Kylo Ren at the first opportunity.

He just has to reach Abetenna first.


	2. Stars Don’t Shine in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn is on a deadly mission to Abetenna while Poe is helping Rey fight a deadly battle through the Force.

## Kylo

Kylo could conquer Abetenna faster. He’s already placed a trade embargo. There’s little agriculture on this desert planet, so they’re starving.

Targeting the royal family from space would be an hour-long solution to the conflict. One order would end it all for them. 

Instead, he has held his fleet. 

He has told them to wait. 

Kylo doesn’t bother explaining things to Hux; when the general demands to know why Kylo is moving slowly, Kylo Force-throws the weasel into a bulkhead.

More than thirty hours later, Kylo has seen not a single ion from the Resistance Squadron. His senses failed to indicate Rey’s approach. She is still out there in the galaxy, in the same place he’d last sensed her, safe and stationary and frustratingly impossible to locate.

He waits. He keeps waiting. He stands by a viewport overlooking a planet that will soon belong to him, fists clenched behind his back, and nobody arrives to stop him.

Rey has ignored his invitation.

Another rejection.

With a roar, Kylo Force-pushes his new bed across the cavern of his bedroom. It crashes into the wall hard enough to shatter the frame. The droids will be irritated they have to replace it again. He’ll crush them too if he must, to silence the critics.

The Knights of Ren flanking his door, guarding him as the Praetorians once guarded Snoke, don’t react to the sound. They’ve grown used to it.

Kylo plants his hands on the viewport and shuts his eyes. 

He inhales the remembered scent of Rey when he was escorting her up the elevator. He summons the memory of her hand against his thigh when she leaned against him to kick Praetorian guards. 

He remembers the moment they suspended the Skywalker lightsaber between them, right before it cracked in half.

And she appears.

Rey seems to stand by the window, fierce and furious, her fists clenched.

“You didn’t tell anyone I’m at Abetenna,” Kylo says. They are in his room again. It is vast but so much less empty with Rey in it, glaring fury at him. Kylo shivers with anger. Somehow, his voice is calm when he speaks. “When the royal family is executed tomorrow, it will be your fault.”

Her throat works as she swallows. Her confidence is faltering. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He carefully picks the words out with tongue and teeth, enunciating each consonant to ensure that she hears how serious he feels. “I killed my father. I will kill anyone I want. Even you.”

Rey slaps him, and he feels it. 

The impact of skin upon skin is no less electric than their first brush of fingers.

He catches her wrist. The gloves are the only thing that’s keeping him contained. If he could feel her forearm’s tendons flexing underneath the silk of her flesh, he would no longer be a man. He would be beast. Nothing but Dark Side devouring the Light.

“You can watch the execution, if you want,” he says in the mildest of tones. “I’ll project it for you.”

She head-butts him.

His head snaps back, and her knee in his gut sends him to all fours. Rey is positioned to push the attack. But she holds, waiting to see how he moves, and Kylo doesn’t move to strike back.

“Consider this your last warning,” Rey says. “You need to leave Abetenna alone. Move on.”

“Or what? Your pathetic squadron of fifty fighters and one refurbished bomber will eliminate me?”

“Or you will never see me again. _Never_.” The wave of his anger is hot enough to warp the bulkheads. Rey doesn’t falter or blink. “I will end this sick game we’re playing, Ben.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” He takes her wrist again, and this time, he doesn’t intend to release her. “If I thought that you were legitimately capable of blocking me, I would wrench you through the fabric of space by willpower alone right now.” He jerks her arm. Pulls her closer. “I should anyway.”

“If you could find me, you would have.” Rey can afford to be bold; she is confident that the First Order doesn’t know where the Resistance base is located.

Unfortunately, they don’t.

He yanks her to his chest. There’s such muffled quiet in the room that the sharpness of their tunics scraping together startles him. He traps Rey with a hand at the back of her neck, momentarily gentle, though his gloved thumb traces up her throat.

“Let Abetenna go. You’re better than this, Ben.” Her voice cracks on his name.

“Am I?” he asks, tightening his glove on her wrist, pulling her closer. “Am I better than…this?” His hand runs along the line of her firm obliques. She is wiry, functional strength paired with the irresistibly innocent face of a doll.

She’s not trying to escape his touch. She wants to be there. His manhood stiffens within his armor, as much a victim of the gesture as Rey is.

For a moment, Kylo doesn’t feel as though he is suffering in solitude.

“Who is it, Rey?” he asks. “Which man will I have to kill for touching what’s mine?”

“You’ll never find either of them,” she says.

Because there are two, and Kylo suddenly knows it, and the knowledge turns his soul white with rage.

He loses the bond. Rey is gone.

* * *

## Poe

It takes a restless night of repeatedly checking Rey’s room to catch her again. This base has shared public toilets; she has to leave eventually to take care of herself.

When Poe crosses paths with Rey by the head, he acts like he hasn’t been here every fifteen minutes for the last six hours. He acts like he’s pleasantly surprised to see her anyway.

“Rey!” Poe exclaims. “Didn’t catch you in the mess hall at dinner.”

She’s red-faced, like she’s been crying, but she doesn’t look injured. “I was with Finn.”

Poe props an elbow on the door by her head. He tries to think of something to say. He’s not the guy with words, like this. He’s not Finn. Doesn’t have that huge heart. Just knows he’s gotta say something, _do_ something, to help make Rey’s burden a few pounds lighter.

He’s not used to caring this much about anything but the Resistance.

“Rey,” he says, and he doesn’t really know what to say after that. He realizes belatedly that she’s wearing his jacket. The one that he gave to Finn, that always looked better on Finn, that made him look like a free man instead of a tool of the enemy. It looks good on Rey too. “How’d you get that?”

“Finn loaned it to me before he left,” Rey says.

Poe realizes what must have preceded the jacket exchange, and pleasant warmth buzzes through him. Finn and Rey had sex. “You did the guy a favor.”

“He was the one helping me,” Rey says. “I hope it doesn’t make anything weird for you two.”

It’s not weird to think about. It’s kind of great to think about, actually. Poe fingers the ring he wears on a chain around his neck, waiting to see if jealousy springs on him the way that his feelings for Rey have sprung upon him, but it doesn’t.

He hooks an arm around Rey and pulls her against him. “I’m happy you’ve got each other,” Poe says into her hair. Poe is not the man with words. He’s the man with blasters and an X-Wing.

Rey’s smile is slow, warmer than sunlight dawning over Naboo. Her arm winds around his waist. She pulls him nearer. “I’m happy too. With both of you.”

* * *

## Finn

In fact, at the moment, Rey does not have both of them.

Because Finn has broken Rose out of the infirmary, stolen the Falcon (he is definitely going to get his arms ripped off by Chewbacca later), and is currently hurtling through hyperspace on what may be a one-way trip to Abetenna.

“As long as we kill Kylo Ren, it will all be worth it,” Rose says with that brilliant ferocity she gets when feeling righteous.

(Finn is feeling more nervous than righteous, but he has some of that too.)

* * *

## Kylo

Kylo Ren gives the order to kill the Abetenna royal family.

It’s unforgivable, he knows. Some softer part of him that likes being called Ben realizes that this seals it, that Ben will never be loved by Rey, that this will be a handful of deaths too many. It is proof of how deep the waters of the Dark Side run, and how far Kylo has sunk into the mire.

He doesn’t need Rey’s love, after all. He thinks he will be satisfied with her body.

Kylo Ren strides through Eo Palace. It’s his now, even if the family has yet to be fetched from the dungeons. He doesn’t really want these marbled floors and towering pillars overlooking the rocky expanse of Abetenna’s Gehn Crater, nor does he want the crimson silk curtains that flutter in winds hotter than a krayt dragon’s breath, yet this is his and he will take a moment to savor it.

They will holo-project this execution to the galaxy. Kylo will show everyone exactly how cruel he is, how easily he rips heads off of shoulders instead of placing crowns upon them. There are six living heirs to Abetenna’s throne. Two of them are children. A seventh rests within the womb of the first. All will fall under his lightsaber.

It will happen here, in this lonely throne room with no throne. Just a sparse stretch of murals and mosaics soon to be splattered with blood.

That will come soon.

But first.  
”Rey,” Kylo says. Only her name, just like that. A command.

He doesn’t know the exact mechanism that connects him to Rey. He feels it the way that he feels the contraction of muscles in his chest every time he sits up, pulling one part of his body toward another.

Kylo pulls himself toward Rey, and Rey toward Kylo.

She doesn’t try to stop him.

In the sudden silence of the world, gone hazy and unreal, the only people who exist are Kylo and Rey. And he immediately sees why she wouldn’t think to fight back.

Rey is having sex with someone.

He cannot see the man—the unworthy Resistance fighter intruding upon Kylo’s territory.

Kylo sees only Rey.

Rey, with her head flung back and her weight braced on her hands.

Rey, with her knees spread wide.

Rey, with her cotton stockings gone and her shirt lifted to her collarbone.

Her skin is scarred and tan, yet looks softer than anything Kylo has ever touched before. Sweat makes the twists of her hair look like snakes tattooed upon her throat.

She is sprawled on the floor in front of him. Kylo can easily imagine the shape of a man lying between her thighs, his tongue drawing those sounds from deep within her throat, even though he cannot see him.

“Stop immediately,” Kylo says.

Rey’s eyes lock onto his. There’s no surprise in her face. She knows what she’s doing, and she sees him, and she still reaches down to wrap her fingers around someone else’s head.

Kylo watches as Rey’s head rolls back again. She moans louder, and it doesn’t echo because she’s not in the throne room. Yet the noise rakes through him. It diverts all blood flow to his pelvis, and it’s hard to hold onto the bond. But hold onto it he does. He will not let this go.

She is spread, a flower with glistening pink petals. A brush of light-brown hair frames her core. There is someone inside her, perhaps—a tongue or fingers or an implement.

“I told you to stop,” he says.

Footsteps approach. “Supreme Leader, the royal family is here,” says Hux. He is still in the real world. He can see Kylo Ren staring at the floor but not why, and his voice sounds as though it’s projected from miles away.

This is Kylo’s moment. Nothing would be more damaging to Rey than to watch the royal family die, especially now, while she is being pleasured by someone who doesn’t deserve her.

Anger rocks through Kylo. “Send them back to the holding cells. I’m delaying the execution.”

Hux is confused. “But Supreme Leader—“

“Send them back!” It’s a roar this time, and it’s accompanied by a Force push. He hurls Hux unceremoniously into the hallway and slams the door.

Kylo _will_ have privacy.

Rey must have seen his rage, but she’s ignoring him now. She is wrapped up in her lover. He can feel her pleasure now, like a ball of electricity about to lance into lightning.

Kylo lowers himself between her knees. His cloak billows around him, spilling like shadow over the mosaic.

“I’m going to touch you,” he says.

Rey is panting. Her eyes are hooded. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and Kylo has never been so transfixed by the motion.

“You are mine, and I do not share what is mine,” he says, bracing an arm beside hers to lean over her.

She can’t argue with him. Not without tipping off her invisible partner.

So Kylo argues with himself reflexively, taking Rey’s voice.

“I could take you whenever I want, but you’re going to choose to surrender. You’re going to turn. I’m going to wait for you to make the choice you already know is right.”

His free hand strokes up her thigh, from the inside of her knee to the joint at its apex. He uses the back of his fingers. Barely even his knuckles. Frisson settles over the both of them and the world is that much less _real_ outside the two.

When Rey catches her breath this time, it’s because of Kylo’s touch. Not _his_. Whoever _he_ is.

Kylo slicks one thick, gloved finger between her lower lips, swirling the juices around. Rey has sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Her brow furrows, and she groans so deeply, and Kylo pushes his forefinger into her.

Even through the Force, she is hot, tight, and drenched with need. Kylo’s heart is hammering as he withdraws, then pushes it back in, and he is rewarded by her eyes flying open to focus on him.

She isn’t shaking her head “no” anymore.

Kylo can _almost_ feel her breath over his lips as he adds a second finger and begins to pump. When her hand smooths over her other lover’s head, Kylo can almost feel her fingertips atop his, as if guiding him to push in deeper. He shifts his grip and he’s certain that his thumb finds the bead of her clitoris, rolling it until she begins to spasm around him.

He is almost in the same position as the other man now. He knows this because Rey is thinking it. She finds it unnerving and exhilarating and she is so close to climax that Kylo tastes it.

But then she says, “Wait.” And she’s not talking to Kylo.

* * *

## Poe

“Wait,” Rey says.

Poe has climbed her body, and they are locking together in those familiar ways, moving through a well-rehearsed ritual toward penetration. He loves how readily Rey always opens to him. How she invites him in and molds around him and turns two bodies into one perfect whole.

Except that now she’s holding still. The head of his cock bumps against her, so close to that fullness they both need.

But she told him to wait, and he waits.

Rey grips the back of his neck, pulling his head toward her. He wants to devour her mouth. He wants to taste the saliva lingering on her bottom lip. He wants to suck her earlobe into his mouth and bury his nose into her hair and bury his body into her deepest core.

He doesn’t even get to kiss her. Rey holds him bare centimeters away and whispers, “Kylo Ren is attacking me through the Force.”

Poe’s not superstitious but his first reaction is still that weird tingle down his spine. The unease strikes swiftly, and his fury at Ren comes later, like a wildfire surging down a mountainside.

“I’ll get your clothes,” he says. No, that won’t help. It’s not like he can armor her body from an attack through the Force. She needs another Jedi. “I’ll get Leia. I’ll—“

“No, don’t,” Rey says. “Don’t stop. I want you with me. Like this.”

Her hand curves around his cock.

Poe’s thoughts aren’t coming from the brain he keeps in his skull, so it sounds like a great idea. But...

“He’s trying to hurt you?” Poe asks. He could rip the Supreme Leader in half. Send his flagship straight through the molten core of a star. Lead a thousand fighters to blast the man out of the universe.

“He wants me,” Rey says. The tenor of her voice makes it clear what she means. 

Kylo Ren wants to fuck Rey.

The idea is repellant. The Supreme Leader is whatever grows under wet rocks alongside the toxic pools of Kashanar. Darkness and mildew and goodness turned foul. Whereas Rey is—well, she’s _Rey_ , and if not for Finn she would be the purest creature in the galaxy.

“Kriff, Rey. We have to stop him. What do I do?” He tries to sit back, but she doesn’t let him.

“I want you to fight him. I want you to make me feel _you_.” She’s dragging Poe closer, and the way that she clings to his neck makes him completely unravel. Those eyes of hers, those kiss-bruised lips, the smoldering anger that makes her chest hitch and breasts twitch...

She wants him to fuck her anyway.

If this is the way Rey needs Poe to fight for her, then it’s just as well. He’s as comfortable in this role as he is in a cockpit.

“Are you okay with this?” Poe asks, angling her hips with one hand, the other catching the back of her head for support. She’s straining toward his mouth still.

“Please Poe,” she says.

Nobody has ever said his name the way she says his name. Like he’s her only hope.

Poe can’t imagine what Rey is thinking and feeling as he pushes inside of her. It feels the same to him. She is as hot as she is sweet. Her walls clutch him, and he’s gotta pace himself so that he doesn’t reach his end instantly.

He works between her legs. He nuzzles her throat, laps at the tops of her breasts. She rubs her cheek against his hair like a feline and whines in this vulnerable way that should be impossible for a Jedi, all while meeting him stroke for stroke, snapping her hips against him.

Yet even though they’re both doing all the right things, some of Rey’s responses are slightly off beat.

Like she’s also responding to someone else touching her body.

Like somewhere else, right now, Kylo Ren is getting his rocks off with her.

Poe can’t blow Kylo Ren up with his TIE fighter, so he gets his revenge by fucking Rey all the harder. It’s a punishing rhythm. Their skin slaps together. He’s not even sure the noises he’s making are human anymore, and Rey is just as loud.

He cups Rey’s face in hands. She’s looking through a thousand lightyears over a thousand parsecs and the veil of the Force itself to see Poe. Even as ecstasy overwhelms her, she remains focused on him.

And when she orgasms, it’s Poe Dameron’s name she cries out, as her body clenches around Poe Dameron’s cock, and he sure as hell hopes Kylo Ren is regretting it.

* * *

## Kylo

Kylo Ren has three fingers inside Rey and his tongue inside her mouth when she reaches her peak. It’s not really a kiss. He’d call it an invasion, but he can’t invade what he’s decided belongs to him. He’s conquered Rey the way he’s conquered all these other planets.

At some point he freed himself from his pants. He fisted himself, pumping his hand in time with the shake of Rey’s hips, and her wails of ecstasy send him over the edge at the same time that she does.

He spurts. It should splatter on Rey’s thigh, but she’s not really there; it vanishes underneath her.

As she comes, she calls out a name.

And it’s not Kylo’s.

“Poe!”

A face flashes to mind.

A Resistance pilot on another desert planet. A burning village. The jokes and defiance from a rakish, dark-haired older man.

Poe Dameron.

Rey claps a hand over her mouth, and it muffles the last of her sighs, but it’s too late to silence the truth.

Kylo closes his trousers with a rough yank.

_Poe Dameron_.

The name’s branded on him. The name that Rey— _his_ Rey—shouted when _Kylo_ was bringing her toward the peak of pleasure.

He can see Rey’s room now, as clearly as though he stands against the wall. She must be at a very old base. It’s not one that Kylo recognizes; he’d used Starkiller prototypes to methodically destroy any of the Resistance bases he’d seen as a child.

Rey is still sprawled on the floor, in a tangle of blankets, with a naked man suspended over her. They kiss slowly. Deeply. Her fingers are stroking through the dark curls that Kylo has seen before.

“Poe Dameron,” Kylo snarls.

The pilot jerks upright, swinging to put himself between Rey and Kylo reflexively. He’s still naked and half-erect. The hair ringing his manhood is curlier than that on his head, and just as dark.

He glistens with Rey’s juices upon him.

“Kriff!” Poe’s blaster all but leaps into his hand, and he fires. The bolt goes through Kylo. It sears the wall behind him.

“No!” Rey throws out her hand a moment later.

The Force pushes.

Kylo’s view of the base vanishes.

He stands, rumpled and furious, in the empty throne room on Abetenna. His seed is on the floor in front of him.

The door opens. Hux enters again, and he cringes when Kylo whirls on him.

“I told you to leave!” Kylo roars.

Hux says, “Yes, but you want to know—that is to say, you’ll _need_ to know—that we’ve caught it. We caught the Millennium Falcon.”


End file.
